Snow
by trucizna
Summary: What is supposed to be a relaxing vacation for Weiss goes awry when a mysterious girl shows up and threatens to ruin everything. Omi takes it upon himself to stop her before she has all of them under her devious spell. Rated for language.
1. Incident Number One

Warnings: Shounen-Ai (if you're looking for it, but safe enough for the whole family), mild language, vague sexual references, genuine Omi-cynicism, over-hyphenization, and bizarre similes.    

Spoilers: references to various events during the anime series, including but not limited to Omi's Tragic Past.  

--Snow-- 

Incident Number One:  Yohji and the Miniature Mountain of Snow

There wasn't really much to see out the windows.  The snow splattered around the car in giant, wet flakes that stuck faster than if they were made of glitter-glue.  On second thought, that stuff isn't really all that sticky.  Yohji was driving, which in and of itself was scary enough, but rendered more cheap-horror-movie-esque by the fact that he couldn't see outside either. He had his brights on, and the extra light bounced blindingly back.  I was amazed he hadn't hit something already.

"Yohji, turn on your fog lights, you'll see better." I said for the fifth time at least.

"What are you smoking?  The fog lights are dimmer.  Therefore if I turn them on, I'll see less.  It's common sense.  You don't even know how to drive, Omi." 

I sighed.  Let him wreck his precious convertible.  What did I care?  Stupid Yohji. 

The ride to the Villa White was relatively uneventful.  Relatively because nothing the four of us do together is ever completely uneventful, seeing as how we're usually interrupted by either one of my renegade distant biological family members or another equally devilish scheme to usurp the world.  At that point, however, things were pretty quiet.  Ken snored quietly in the seat next to me, his breath fogging over the doodles he'd made on the window with his finger.  Aya was silent in the front passenger seat, glaring at the snow outside as if the weather was the reason his sister was in a coma.  Yohji hummed tunelessly along with his music, which Aya had made him listen to on headphones instead of on the car radio.  

I'd given up trying to make conversation an hour ago. 

I took the opportunity to work on my calculus homework, since I knew once we got to the cabin my comrades would leave me no time for schoolwork.  Yohji's driving plus the chain rule of derivatives left my head feeling a bit sandy and my stomach disturbingly similar to Jello.  I didn't say anything, though, about my motion sickness.  Even if Yohji would have been able to hear me past his headphones he wouldn't have stemmed his James Bond driving style.  He would have told me to suck it up and be a man, which, coming from Yohji… well, I'm not so naïve as to not be a little bit disturbed.  Just as I completed a particularly vicious problem involving implicit differentiation the car started down a hill.  This wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, except it didn't stop when Yohji hit the brakes.  Instead, his precious Jeep skidded in violent circles down the sloping road and stopped suddenly in a snowdrift toward the bottom.  The wheels churned uselessly as the car settled itself comfortably in the snow.  Without any kind of ceremony I flung open the door and vomited into the storm.  When I returned my head into the car Ken stared blinkingly at me and Yohji was cursing his car to all sorts of imaginative places.  I closed the door against the snow that attempted to set up a miniature whirlwind inside the Jeep.  

"Are you okay?" Ken said, confused, having obviously just been awakened during the drama.  I nodded the affirmative but felt otherwise.  I wished I had something to get rid of the acrid taste in my mouth.  

The wind battered even harder against the slightly tilted car, and eventually Yohji's furious screaming faded into more helpless cries of slightly calmer frustration.  

"Well," Aya said, his voice flatter than the cover of my calculus book, "We could get out and shovel." 

Yohji gave the gas pedal another desperate push.  

"The snow is falling pretty hard," Ken observed, wiping away his window-steam art to see outside.  

"Do we even have a shovel?"  Yohji asked after giving up on the car and turning off the ignition.  

"There's a collapsible shovel in the trunk." I said.  

"There is?" Yohji turned to look at me.  I nodded, not trusting the bile tickling at my throat.

"He put it in there this morning before we left," Ken said for me, giving me his classic look of worry as he spoke.  

"So," Yohji began carefully, "Who's shoveling?"

And I thought that creepy Takatori lab was quiet.  

"Let's all take turns, since we only have one shovel." I said eventually, glancing nervously between Yohji and Aya in the front seat. 

"I'll go first." Ken offered, and Yohji beamed. 

"Hey thanks Ken, you're a real pal." 

Ken unbuckled his seat belt and turned to rummage in the trunk for the shovel and his hat, gloves and scarf.  He donned his finally found items and with a cheery wave left the car, promptly disappearing into the blizzard.  

"Don't you think we should go out there and, you know," I began, "freeze too?" Yohji said the second part also at the exact same time I did, only his was swarming with sarcasm.   

"Why should we?  We'll each have our turn, anyway.  When Ken gets tired he'll come in and one of us will go instead." 

"We'd just be useless standing around out there, doing nothing." Aya added.  I slumped over, lying across the spot where Ken used to be.  My head sloshed as it slowly recovered from its previous motion sickness.  Aya gave me a look that I could not meet, so I closed my eyes instead.  

"Yohji, turn off the car."  I said quietly once I realized he'd turned on the heat. 

"Are you crazy?"

"The carbon monoxide is considerably more deadly than the cold.  Haven't you heard of those people who got stuck in the mountains, just as we have, and died; not from the blizzard but from the exhaust of their car as they left it on for the heater?"

Yohji turned the car off with a nervous chuckle.  

"Ever the dramaticist, Omi." 

"Dramatist." I corrected automatically.  

"Yeah, that." He said, and he put his headphones back on.  I could hear the guitar leaking out of them in faint, cackling waves.  

It could have been a long time, it could have been short, but I felt the trembling, snow-strewn wind before I heard the door open and Ken enter the car.  He almost sat on my head, and I had to wrench myself backward so quickly it made my brain gurgle unpleasantly.    He was breathing slightly harder than usual as he peeled of his coat and gloves, the water rattling off of him and spraying everyone in the car with occasional droplets.  He leaned back against the seat and sighed.  Occasionally fat, juicy snowflakes tumbled one by one from his hair and landed on his cheeks, nose and shoulders.  This image brought to mind the most surprising feat of imagination I had quite possibly ever had, and it was such that it made my cheeks feel warm and I wanted suddenly to disappear.  It was also such that I will never tell a soul what it was.  I pretended to have forgotten the slightly-confusing fantasy immediately and decided to stare at the back of Aya's head.    

"What's it look like?" Yohji said, having removed his headphones.  I saw Ken wipe the hair from his eyes from the corner of my own.

"It should be about done, I suppose.  Look."  

Yohji started the car and flicked the windshield wipers into action.  Barely visible through the streaming snow, a crooked path led back to the road. 

"Ken, you are now officially my hero."  Yohji pulled down the parking break.  

"It's nothing." Ken said softly, "It wasn't that bad." 

I never knew Aya's hair was so fascinating.  

Smiling, Yohji revved the engine in an attempt to drive somewhere, but the weather foiled him again.  The wheels refused to grip the slick sleet they sat upon.  

"Damnit!" Yohji wailed.  Ken pressed his face against the window,

"I bet we could push it back to the road.  It's sort of plowed there, at least." 

"Everyone out.  Except Omi.  He's steering." Aya commanded.  

Yohji winced, "Omi? Steer? He can't drive."

"You don't need to have a license to be able to steer a car, Yohji.  You have one and you still can't steer." 

"Well excu-use me!  You…" 

"He is the lightest."  Ken intervened brightly before fists started flying.  Aya was never one for pubic relations, and unfortunately Yohji was the quintessence of the public masses.  To make myself useful while Yohji complained about me I dug around in the junk yard of luggage that spanned the trunk for their things.  I passed coats, scarves, gloves and hats to the front seat.

"Don't let me down, kid." Yohji said gravely as he stepped out into the snow.  I slid on my winter boots, just in case,

"Aye aye, Captain." 

I crawled into the front seat as soon as there was room and buckled myself in after moving the seat forward the foot or so it took for me to reach the pedals.

"Stupid Yohji," I muttered, shifting the car from first gear into neutral and dropping the emergency brake.  Honestly, if it wasn't for me that old man would have gotten himself killed a dozen times by now, and that's being modest.  It took longer than it should have for the car to start moving, probably because of senseless bickering.  Eventually, however, the other three managed to start the car forward at a surprising rate.  I kept the wipers vigilant, and narrowed my eyes through the windshield against the show that allowed only a few yards' visibility.  Despite the handicaps, I saw a dark shape in the snow.  It could have been a rock, it could have been part of a tree, it could have been my imagination, but whatever it was I was sure Yohji didn't want to hit it with his car.  Unfortunately, the object was right in Ken's neatly-cleared path.  I scrolled the window down and poked my head out to call for Yohji to stop.  The brakes didn't work when the engine wasn't on.  I had only the accessories as allies.  Naturally, he didn't hear me.  I couldn't even see him through the gale.  I pulled on the emergency brake: I considered our near-hit with whatever-was-in-our-way an emergency.  The thud of three bodies hitting the back of the car amused me but unfortunately, they didn't see it in quite the same way.

"Omi, what the hell are you doing?" Yohji demanded after his attempt to rip the driver-side door off to get to me.  

"Look." I pointed.  Ken was already at what I now realized what a human figure sprawled in the snow.  Aya stood safely back, watching, and Yohji frowned and moved away towards Ken and the stranger.  I immediately stepped out of the car and made my way towards them as well.  It was shockingly cold outside, but I was already only a few steps away.

The person was bundled tightly in layers of dirty jackets.  Goggles and scarves obscured their face, which rolled slightly as Ken shook their shoulders as per the first instructions of any trustworthy first aid/CPR course.   

"Are you okay?" If no response, check breathing and check the pulse simultaneously.  Ken could have been Red Cross's protégé.  

"He's breathing," He called against the wind.

"What do we do with him?" Yohji replied, holding his arms up to protect his face from the flurries.

"We'll have to take him with us, we can't leave him here."  Ken began to drag the person up by the arm.  Moving a body rendered unconscious by unknown circumstances was usually a lifesaving no-no, but Ken the heroic genius realized the external dangers were far worse if the victim was left alone.  Suddenly, I realized I couldn't feel my arms.  

"Omi, you idiot, get back in the car!  You're not wearing anything!"  Yohji bellowed. 

"I am too!" I insisted.  I was very decently clothed in a T-shirt and jeans.  Aya stooped in to help Ken carry the stranger and Yohji grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back to the car.  I wondered if his grip should have been painful.  Distracted by the scene in front of me, I'd forgotten that I was coat-less in a blizzard, and my limbs were definitely out of the neurological loop.  Oops.  Something seemed to be hoodwinking my mental capacities, but I couldn't figure out what.  But there was no time for that; our mystery guest needed attention.  

"We need to check for frostbite and stuff." Ken said carefully once we were all loaded into the car.  I was once again behind Aya next to the window, but now Ken was in the middle seat, with the bundle of rags to his right.  I was sitting very, very close to Ken, and he was stripping the clothes off a complete stranger.  For some reason this didn't bode very well with my innards, and I wished vehemently that my body would just get over the post-crash nausea and move on.  Although, with Yohji's driving it was a miracle I was alive at all, so I suppose I shouldn't complain.  Luckily for all of us, the car found no obvious disagreements with the terrain and meandered forwards and back onto the road.  Someone ought to give tokens to Yohji for driving much slower than before.  

"It's… a girl." Ken said a few minutes and countless layers of clothing later.  I leaned around, ending up practically on top of Ken (Yohji's car isn't really all that wide, there wasn't a lot of room, what with the intruder and all…) to take a look.  Yes, it was certainly a she, and she was wearing the most hideous set of long-johns I had ever seen.  

"Well is this just _peachy_." I thought, the sarcasm burning a hole in my brain.  Judging by the startled look Ken gave me I'd spoken aloud.  What kind of innocent woodland creature did he steal that look from, anyway?  He could put the foulest of American rappers to shame with just his eyes.  You'd think since that embarrassing incident in the car with the Shota kid I'd have learned to keep my borderline-psychotic outbursts to myself.  Apparently not, and a team doesn't like to see that their personal human-Prozac-overdose is prone to his own less-than-euphoric emotions, especially about taking in a helpless female victim.  Isn't it natural to have a few reservations?  We found her in the middle of the wilderness, in a blizzard.  Seriously, I saw _Dreamcatcher_ too.  

At least I had the presence of mind to offer Ken an apologetic grin and look away as fast as I possibly could.  

I'd hate to consider the girl's presence, however conveniently distracting at times, lucky.  You'll undoubtedly see why soon enough.  No, no aliens ripped their way from her intestines, but I think that's what I would have preferred by the time the whole event was over.  


	2. Incident Number Two

Warnings: Shounen-Ai (if you're looking for it, but safe enough for the whole family), mild language, genuine Omi-cynicism, and over-hyphenization.    

Spoilers: references to various events during the anime series, including but not limited to Omi's Tragic Past.  

Snow

Incident Number Two: The Mystery Girl and the Four Male Assassins.

One still unconscious girl and one hour later we arrived at the Villa White.  Aya leapt out of the car to unlock the door as Yohji ran around the car to carry the damsel in distress.  Ken and I grabbed massive handfuls of luggage and carted them inside after the other two.  At least Aya was helpful.  Once we managed to make the several trips required for the apparent necessities of cabin life there was a delicious fire in the fireplace.  Yohji, on the other hand, was rapidly sinking to the position of 'dark beast' in my book.  He had the girl strewn over the couch and was fluffing pillows, unfolding blankets, and generally being a lazy pain in the ass.  Ken didn't seem to mind his new status as co-pack mule, and as soon as we'd brought everything safely inside he ignored the fact that he was wetter than a scuba diver in a raincoat and went straight to fair princess' bedside.  

Damn Konrad Lorenz.  Damn him to wherever Yohji's car is doomed if it breaks down on him again, because the moment goose-girl opened her sparkly eyes and planted them on Ken she decided to drill her seductive root-system into his hapless brain.  She ignored Yohji who kneeled by her ready to propose and said breathlessly to Ken,

"Where am I?" 

"Erm, well, we…"  

I see why she went for Ken instead.  He's cute and innocent on the outside, but inside awaits a tumultuous mess a haz-mat team wouldn't touch with a fifty foot pole.  The girls adore that kind of deranged, week-old-boston-crème-donut routine.  Besides, you can practically smell all of Yohji's STDs from Okinawa.  But still, if Ken were ever to go for a creepy sap like her, I'd kill him.  Maybe kill her, instead, because her beastliness was considerably darker than Yohji's.  Why was I the only one to see it?  Even Aya seemed to think she echoed to some degree the appearance of his poor, estranged sister.  Of course, anything that moved and at least sort-of resembled a Japanese female looked identical to his sister in his disturbingly star-stuck eyes.  

To set the record somewhere other than backward, she didn't look at all like Aya-chan.  Sure, she had long black hair and dark brown, tremulous eyes that made her look like a tragically-perplexed buy-a-bride from Taiwan, but she was much older: definitely older than me and probably Ken too.  

And did no one see that smirk?  I couldn't let on to her succubus ways, no.  I had to suck it up, be a man, and play Omi-kins the friendship fairy for my team.  That, and I had to tell them what to do in such a way so that it looked like Aya's idea.  

"…and so we took you here, because well, the weather is not exactly…" 

"You're here, sweet lass, so that we could protect you from the ghastly weather that would undoubtedly take a toll on a flower as beautiful and delicate as yourself."  

Apparently, estrogen within a few feet did wonders for Yohji's vocabulary, which consisted entirely of pick-up lines and useless wooing devices.  I wondered what kind of evolutionary chain produced a blonde, walking testosterone mess like Yohji and figured that Darwin, wherever he ended up, was undoubtedly reeling from this assault on his theory.  Luckily for whoever would get stuck in the room next to Yohji's tonight she ignored him, turning her crafty, innocent eyes on Ken.

"What's your name?"  Aya intervened.  I hoped desperately it wasn't Aya, or she'd have two men proposing to her, leaving only Ken to be smashed over the delicate head with the love-hammer. 

"Ayame.  Ishida Ayame." 

"Damnit!"  And with another psychologically-unpreventable outburst I blew my cover.  

"Erm, that's Omi."  Yohji said hastily, trying to divert her attention back to him.  

"Omi." She repeated, "It's a pleasure."  And her eyes flashed with the blood she would spill and her smirk widened to reveal teeth that would make an anaconda wildly jealous.  This terrifying revelation happened so fast, I could have imagined it, but the doubt didn't come until after I'd fled the scene and locked myself in a random bedroom.  

Once safely hidden away in a closet I had time to consider my dwindling options.  Yohji was smitten the moment he realized she had breasts and both her eyes.  Aya, well, I was sure he wouldn't dismiss the girl's name as coincidence and would be reduced to becoming her personal stalker.  Ken, however, was still too confused to have been converted to Ayame's devious ways.  Something had to be done. 

I'm usually not the type to flee a precarious situation like that.  I'm the cool, calculating one who always has a plan to save the day.  Although when it comes to being cool I don't hold an icicle to Aya, who has been labeled by some anonymous sources as 'frosty bitch'.  But even his glacier-encased heart has been enslaved by Miss I-have-the-same-name-as-your-sister.  Steeling myself for some intrepid reconnaissance, I made my way to the loft overlooking the dramatically outnumbered battle of hormones below.  My friends were on the losing side.  

Was I the only one impervious to her wily ways?  Ken had to hold out, he had to!

There was Aya, bringing her a mug of coffee as Yohji tucked a blanket around her.  I couldn't restrain my eyes from rolling when I saw exactly how long it took him to do it.  Did the man have no shame?  Ken stood by, conveniently entranced with his unkempt fingernails.  There was nothing for it, I had to go back down and play matador since I seemed to be the only one immune to her witchery.  

"So what exactly happened to you?"  Yohji was actually massaging her hand.  At his question, her eyes glazed over, indicating she'd turned on the faucet labeled, 'pity me'.  

"It was terrible," She began, gripping her coffee mug for an extra-dramatic effect, "my boyfriend and I were driving up into the mountains to go skiing together.  He's been skiing since he was a very young boy, you see, and we got into a fight on the drive up…" Cue the tragic sniff, "It was the stupidest thing, really, I shouldn't have let it happen.  But, well, he kicked me out of the car and drove off without me." 

"He didn't!" Yohji bellowed, rising so quickly it was a miracle he didn't upset her cup.  He looked like a rebel fighter from a poor rendition of Les Misérables, "What a bastard!"  Look, he even had a fist raised.  I half-expected him to start screaming about liberty, equality and fraternity, but instead he spouted slightly different ideals, "No _real_ man would ever do such a terribly heartless thing."   

As the tears started their devious run down her face I interrupted the soap opera with my trademark smile firmly superglued in place,

"I'm sure you're terribly exhausted by your ordeal.  Perhaps it would be wise of you to get some rest?  I'll show you to your room." 

Suddenly I was a cheap bellhop.  It had to be me, though.  Viva la resistance!  

She offered me her dainty, claw-ridden hand, pawning her half-full mug off on Yohji as I pulled her to her feet.  She sniffed and sobbed the entire way upstairs, making me feel slightly awkward despite my impenetrable demeanor.  

"You can sleep here.  The bathroom's just down the hall if you'd like to take a shower." 

"Thank you so much, Omi dear," She breathed.  Omi dear?  Who died and made her a creepy grandmother sales clerk?  

"Um, goodnight Ishida-san." 

I fled.

"Guys, we need to talk." I said upon returning to the scene of the crime.

"We need to figure out who gets to sleep with Ayame.  I think it should be me since I…"

"No, Yohji," I snapped, irate.  That did bring up an interesting predicament, however.  There were only four bedrooms, and since I gave one to her someone was going to have to sleep on the couch.  That had to be saved for later. 

"Don't you guys think she's even slightly suspicious?"

"Omi, Omi," Yohji chuckled in a frighteningly father-like way, "You're too young to know the true purpose of the fairer sex.  Someday, however…"

"Yohji!  That's not the point.  Besides, I am seventeen.  I know enough."

"But you don't _know_." He smirked.  I could feel myself blushing.  What did he take me for?  Just because he'd been copulating with anything that moved since the age of twelve didn't mean that my virginity made me some sort of naïve freak.  Besides, I had kissed Ouka, at least, and I was sure that meant something.  I glanced imploringly at Ken.

"What do you mean, suspicious, Omi?"

Thank you! 

"Isn't it a little odd that we found her in the middle of a blizzard in such good condition?  We didn't pass any cars, nor did any pass us while we were stranded."

"The blizzard's rough, we could have easily missed another car." Yohji said.

"Do you think she might be a Schreint member in disguise?" Ken said.  I could always count on Ken to take me seriously.  Yohji's eyes narrowed, and it pleased me to see that the stupid incident with Neu had some sort of lingering impression on his quicksand-laden skull.  

"I don't think so, but I definitely don't trust her."

"Jealous much?  Don't worry about it.  You're just a bit too young for her.  After all, you are technically jailbait."

"Yohji!"  He tousled my hair.  Sometimes I truly hated the bastard.  

"Oh well," he yawned, "I think I'll go sleep on it."  He grinned to himself and I looked desperately around for something to maim him with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes: 

Konrad Lorenz is an ecological psychologist who became famous for his work with imprinting on goslings.  

Ayame's last name is a tribute to Tatsuya Ishida, the writer of the comic strip "Sinfest" found at Sinfest.net.  Although I'm not sure how honored he'd be by having a whack-job like Ayame named after him, his comic strip is still hilarious, so go read it.  


	3. Incident Number Three

Warnings: Shounen-Ai (if you're looking for it, but safe enough for the whole family), mild language, genuine Omi-cynicism, and over-hyphenization.    

Spoilers: references to various events during the anime series, including but not limited to Omi's Tragic Past.  

Snow

Incident Number Three:  Yohji Proves his Ineptitude beyond Reasonable Doubt

I was on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night when I heard some strange sounds accompanied by dangerous hissing.  I peered into one of the bedrooms to find Ishida Ayame in her true form:  Snakes twinged and twisted around her head in place of her hair and long, sticky tentacles held her prisoner stiffly in place.  

Ken.

She held one long, manicured claw poised at his delicate throat.  I had my darts ready in a fraction of an instant but Ayame struck out her reptile tongue and hissed,

"Drop them, Omi dear.  This isn't a hollow threat." 

What could I do but comply?  My darts rattled to the ground helplessly as I looked on.  

She slit his throat anyway.  

I screamed, tilting upright faster than the most obnoxious of boxing dummies.  It took a moment for me to realize that I was downstairs at the Villa White, sleeping on the couch, and that the vicious murder of Hidaka Ken had been a nightmare.  I felt the crystals of cool sweat clinging to my face.  The wind creaked and swooped in the now-closed fireplace and I felt so very alone. 

Since sleep seemed suddenly to be completely terrified of me I pulled out my trusty laptop and opened solitaire; the light from the screen enough for me to see properly.  The good thing about computer solitaire was that you could never lose any cards, and you could also change what your deck looked like.  I chose the flapping bats and the ominous vampire castle to suit the current mood of our predicament.  

And speaking of playing with a full deck, I heard a tell-tale noise from upstairs.  Someone was moving around in the dark, and I bet myself fifty yen that it was her.  Stealthily, I closed my laptop to extinguish the light and crept toward the stairs.  She was most certainly going for the stealth factor.  Peering over the top of the staircase I could see her using the edges of the hallway to reduce creaking.  What a clever little siren!  Where did she learn such tactics?  I fortified my limbs to spring at just the moment when she passed by the stairs.  

Five… 

Four…

Three…

Two…

One!  

I ended up splattered across the hallway on my face because I realized mid-jump that my attackee was none other than Yohji.

"Yohji, what..?"

"Shh, Omi!" He snarled, jamming his fingers into my face to shut me up.  I tried to bite him, but we'd gone through such a charade so many times back at the Koneko that he was prepared for it.  He seemed to always think I was there for the purpose of ruining his countless dates.  You'd think he'd learn to stop picking up girls at the shop while we're working, because I wouldn't have to tell mortifying stories about him otherwise.  I pulled my head away from his silencing grip and snarled at him,

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Shut up or you'll wake someone," He hissed back, "I happen to be going to the bathroom!"

"Uh great, retard, it's that way." 

"I was going for a refreshing walk." 

I glared at him, "Her room is right there.  I know you were on your way there."

"Sure, to check up on her, you know, see if she's alright." 

"Somehow I seriously doubt that leaping on someone while they are defenseless and asleep constitutes 'checking' on them." 

"You know, you wound me with your lack of faith." 

"And you disgust me with your shameless and vulgar actions!" 

There was his hand plastered over my mouth again. 

"You're so obnoxious!"  His look changed from insecurity to suspicion so fast I had to blink a few times before it registered, "What are you doing awake and up here, anyway?"  

"I couldn't sleep, and I saw you creeping around the halls like some sort of serial killer so I came to investigate."  

"Who did you think it was?" 

"Her." 

"Miss Ishida?" I nodded.  "You were about to attack Ayame!?" 

"Well what would she be doing ninja-walking around in the middle of the night if she wasn't a dark beast?"

"Well, she wasn't sneaking around, and she isn't a dark beast."  

"No, you're darker than any beast!" I folded my arms across my chest, glaring through the perpetual aura of cleverness that surrounded me.  Yohji rolled his eyes.  

"Look, just get back to sleep.  You need it." He started back down the hallway, "and quit being so paranoid.  Someday a girl will fall for you, too.  You're pretty cute."  With a smirk, a wink, and some fast-shooting index fingers Yohji headed back to his room.  I scowled at him and twisted my face into the skankiest I could contort it, ran my fingers through my hair and said in a mockingly suave voice, "you're pretty cute."

I wanted to puke.

And as I stood there with my face contorted into an expression that was in all likelihood scarier than the backside of Baba Yaga herself, Ken spoke to me from his partially open doorway.

"Omi, is that you?  Is everything all right?"

I immediately switched into a more startled expression.

"I… uh…" His hair was surely the envy of the Amazonian undergrowth but his eyes were frighteningly sharp.  
"Can you not sleep or something?"

He should have just given me a medal right there for my incomparable beached-bass impression.  Why I just couldn't come out and say, 'Yohji is a creepy bastard' I still have no idea.  

"You can sleep in my bed, if you want."  That was the exact moment my heart let loose from all its worldly arterial connections and made a four-G plummet into my intestines.  

"We can trade places," He continued, but I still couldn't breathe properly.  I'm surprised I didn't tilt over backwards and fall down the stairs.  When whatever had leapt down my throat unlodged itself I managed to squeak, 

"Uh, no.  I... um… water." 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously in a disturbingly Aya-like way.  

'He can see right through me,' I thought, suddenly switched into a two A.M. panic.  I couldn't let him find out just by looking what I still didn't quite understand.  

"Goodnight!" I said quickly, and I ran back downstairs, effectively forgetting everything I had gone up there for in the first place.

I woke up in a warm, happy place.  The blanket was tucked perfectly around my shoulders and it took my sticky eyes a moment to notice that the T.V. was on.  Red kanji on the bottom of the screen informed me that the morning news report was muted.  What in the hell good was watching the news on mute?  I was endlessly grateful, though.  Anyone but Ken would have turned the volume straight to the 'wake Omi up' setting.  Yohji because he's an ass, and Aya because he would have forgotten I was there.  Ken, however, was watching the news muted.  He was always so considerate of others that if given the chance, I was sure Mother Teresa would have adopted him at first sight.  He never put himself first, so I figured someone had to.  It was closed captioned (for the hearing impaired) too; Ken was so much cleverer then he let on.  Would Yohji have ever considered closed captioning, or even known how to implement it if he did?  No.

Ken's face seemed fully awake and exhausted, all at the same time.  His freshly-showered hair had lost its machete-impervious quality and was combed neatly in dripping strands across his scalp.  I was content to simply watch him watch the ugly news guy talk and yet say nothing when my body decided to yawn noisily.  

"Good morning, Omi.  Sorry if I woke you."  He was suddenly Mister Ray of Sunshine.  The effect was startling.

"You didn't at all.  You can turn the volume on now, thanks." I sat up and rubbed my eyes, reveling in the dusty sunlight that bounced through the windows from the heaps of snow outside.  Ken's pants were too big, and this fact provided a view of Ken's stomach that he surely hadn't noticed was visible.  Staring made me realize exactly why all the _real_ girls at the shop went for Ken.  All the girls that wished they were real went for Yohji, the girls who were tougher than old Mrs. Momoe's beef jerky went for Aya, and all the little, Hello Kitty toting middle-schoolers went for me, with exceptions of rich, creepy stalkers like Ouka, (who also happened to be a relative.  Don't get me started on the surprising percentage of my family that has more than one break in their mental circuitry).  But the ones that were actually something, (well, more so than the others, anyway,) went for Ken, and he never wanted them.  If Yohji had enough brain cells that hadn't been converted to his sex drive to notice, it would have sent him into fits of insane jealousy enough to make Farfarello look like Strawberry Shortcake.  Luckily he seemed content with the wanna-bes, as long as they were over eighteen, of course.  I'm not supposed to tell how often he actually employs that little rule of his.  I'm sworn to secrecy under pain of something really dreadful.  Yohji wouldn't specify.  I don't appreciate all the stupid stuff I end up knowing about the old blonde man, when I know next to nothing about Ken.  Hell, I even know more of Aya's secrets than either of us would care to admit.  But as far as Ken goes, I have about nada.  For one, what really happened when he went after Koga at his beach house?  And what did the Kase bastard say to him at the bottom of the stairs that day?  

The world may never know. 

I felt the pricking that hinted to me Ken was staring at me.  I shot my eyes upward to meet his before he caught me in the act of gawking at him.

"I think I'll go take a shower." 

Ken shook his head as I untangled myself from the blanket,

"Ayame is in there."  

I'd forgotten all about her.  Lightning flickered against the inside of my skull.  My glittering, peach-skin morning vanished.  I'd woken up with happy butterflies flitting through my brain, but the memory of the previous night's events sent their entrails smearing across the windowsill.  Whatever muscles were holding my shoulders upright quit their job.  

"I'll go make breakfast then."

Go, reassuring smile, go!  I grabbed my clothes and traipsed into the downstairs bathroom (no shower) and tried my best to scrub the globs of rubber cement out of my eyes.  After dressing, I returned to the kitchen to find Aya staring into his coffee.

"Good morning, Aya" I offered.  He grunted noncommittally.  Apparently the caffeine hadn't yet dilated his blood vessels from 'catatonic' to 'apathetic'.  His morning grunt was usually slightly friendlier.  I cast my lighthouse smile on him as I moved off to find the eggs.  I breathed my relief to find that Ken had remembered to put them in the fridge last night.  An impressive feat, since he'd left them out twice in the past and last night was nightmarishly distracting.  I cracked the eggs into the pan and moved to pour myself a mug of brown slosh.  I didn't like coffee, per se; I always had to drown it in milk and sugar to tolerate it, but I figured I could use the extra chemicals.  I needed to be alert for the trials ahead.  

"Is Yohji up?"

"hhn." That meant no.  Well, no eggs for him, then.  With a flourish and a sizzle, I flipped the eggs and then went and turned on the tap in the sink.  It was a test, see.  The water pressure in the cabin was anemic and dyslexic, so I knew by the pathetic, whimpering spray from the faucet that she was still in the shower. 

Well, no eggs for her then, either.  Yohji can make her some himself.  I was sure he'd love that.

When she finally shows up she's sugarspun.  Her dark eyelashes cover the downward tilt of her gaze as she shuffles into the kitchen.  She's wearing Ken's clothes, blue jeans and a long-sleeve shirt.  He follows her in, looking lost and confused.  At least he still has his hat.  A man is a goner if he lets a girl wear his hat.  I've seen it: at school, at the movies, everywhere.  They may say people wear their hearts on their sleeves, but no, it's their hats.  Maybe that's why Ken wears his backwards.  His hat, I mean.  

"Good morning" Ken offered, slipping past a still Ayame to take his turn at the coffeepot.  She did this coy thing with her hair, skirting it behind her ear as she looked up at the kitchen,

"Thank you all," Her voice was calm radiance, her smile the mother of all fluffy doves, "I don't know what would happened to me if you hadn't been there…" Insert melodrama here.  I'll tell you.  You would have picked yourself out of the snow and gone back to whoever hired you, spewing apologies from your devious strawberry lips.  Her eyes ratcheted onto mine, as if she were a telepath.  

Uh oh.  Hey, if that orange-haired psycho could do it… 

I tried to make my mind blank, like Hatori's math homework before he asks me for the answers.  Think _nothing_.  Her gaze sailed away and I found myself letting out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding.  She was a sly one.  Ken handed her a mug and she nearly drowned him in her sickly-sweet lost puppy look.  Oh _please_.  Why didn't I run her over with the car when I had the chance? 

As if snowstorms themselves weren't enough, no, the sun has to come out and destroy every single rod and cone in the back of your eyes for the finishing touch.  That's certainly what happened when the four of us came out to inspect the previous night's damage.  

"Looks like we're stuck up here for the weekend," Yohji sighed.  It was fake.  He was thinking of all the ways he could trick Ayame into sleeping with him.  

"Well, it's a good thing we planned to stay that long, anyway." Said Ken. 

"But we didn't expect another person," I injected concern into my voice.  It wasn't fake.  

"We have plenty of food." Yohji shrugged.

"We still should get her back into town, people might be worried she's gone." 

"We can call."  I hate you, Yohji.  He sauntered over and draped an arm around Ken, startling the brunette out of his inspection of the mostly-buried car.  I thought I saw Ken twitch. 

"Thinking about Miss Ishida?" Yohji crooned, "You're being awfully quiet, Ken."

"Yohji!" Ken ducked out from the oppressive arm of incoming love advice.

"It will be awhile before the plows make it up here," Aya said, his voice more blank than if he was announcing a hot dog sale at food-way next week, "If they come at all.  We have to wait before we go anywhere." 

Somehow I managed to prevent myself from saying, 'if we run out of food, can we eat Ayame first?'  


	4. Incident Number Four

Warnings: Shounen-Ai (if you're looking for it, but safe enough for the whole family), mild language, genuine Omi-cynicism, and over-hyphenization.    

Spoilers: references to various events during the anime series, including but not limited to Omi's Tragic Past and the Taketori family. 

Snow

Incident Number Four:  What Smells like Masafumi but has Less Tentacles? 

Aya was gone being his usual reclusive self, Ken and Yohji were outside throwing snow at each other, and I was on my computer, writing my paper on the effects of the Meiji period on the lower class.  Just because I was on vacation didn't mean I could ignore my work, after all.  I leaned back in the wooden chair, sighing.  I still needed two pages, and with the sources I'd acquired so far I didn't have enough.  I yawned, rubbing my prickling eyes and stood up.  I could use more coffee. 

She was in the living room; eyes gleaming as she clawed through the sofa cushions, lifting them up and around and shoving them violently back in place when she was through with them.  I stood in the doorway, empty mug dangling from my fingers as I watched.  She finished with the sofa with a growl, moving to the mantelpiece, her clawed fingers dancing along the few framed photographs that sat there gathering dust. 

"They've got to have one here _somewhere_" She snarled.  I just knew she was up to something.  Although I couldn't imagine what she could be looking for, unless it was Aya's katana to slice us all into sushi.  She whirled around, her dark hair skirting behind her, flicking her fury across the room.  I blinked.  She saw me staring. 

"Oh, Omi, _there_ you are."  She was out of breath.  What had she been doing?

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for… the remote."

I pointed.  It was on the coffee table. 

"Oh, thank you."  Her voice slipped back into its syrupy jingle.  I walked past her, careful to keep my back from facing her.  Of course, I ended up backing into the corner of the kitchen cabinet, but I'm sure it was worth the pain.  I ducked into the kitchen out of sight, set my mug on the counter and slipped out of the other exit. 

"Aya!"  I said, bursting into his room, "Ayame is a dark beast!"  Okay, so my door-flinging entrance into his room was a bit on the melodramatic side, but with Aya it's important to get his attention from the beginning.  I failed.  He was still where he always was, lying on his bed, staring out the window. 

"Aya!  I saw her sneaking around downstairs, looking for something."

"Omi… go away."

"Seriously, she's a dark beast!  Please believe me!"

That was it, he was done.  I cast a glare at the back of his head and ran off to find Ken.  I wasn't even going to bother with Yohji. 

By then the sky had a smattering of clouds, at least, and the snow's glint was more tolerable as I stepped outside to find Ken.  He and Yohji were sitting on the porch, side by side, talking. 

"Uh, Ken?" He turned to look at me, "Could I, uh, talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Omi."  He stood to follow me inside.  I caught the over-the-sunglasses look Yohji gave me, like I was ruining something for him _again, _and turned my head quickly away.

"What is it?" 

"It's Ayame."  I looked quickly around to make sure she was out of sight.  I figured the living room was safe, since that was the scene of the crime, but I had to check anyway.  I lowered my voice, "I caught her snooping around here, looking for something."

"What?"

"I caught her…"

"I mean what was she looking for?"

"Oh, I… don't know."  He frowned, "It was very suspicious looking, she was angry."  I added, nodding to accentuate my point.  He looked at me evenly, and I stared back.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." I said, nodding some more.  He suddenly broke out into a grin.

"Hey, Omi, don't worry so much.  After all, there's four of us and only one of her.  Keep an eye open, but don't _kill_ yourself, okay?"

"Okay…"

"I'll watch her too.  But really, what could she do out here?"  He reached as if to pat me on the shoulder or something, but his hand faltered halfway and fell into his pocket instead. 

"I guess you're right."  Something had to fill the silence.  He grinned at me and walked away. 

"Oh, Omi dear," The voice shot through my nerves like the sound chalk makes when it squeaks on a board, "Whoever were you talking about?" 

I told myself to turn slowly, casually.  That would have been the smart thing to do, but of course I shot around, darts automatically between my fingers before I could really stop myself.  Hey, those instincts have kept me alive too many times to count.  They weren't about to just drop away.  

She saw the darts, and a soft hand made its way to cover her delicate lips, but she wasn't surprised or afraid.  Her eyes told me that much. 

"What… what are those?"  Too breathy.  She needed acting classes.  She took a step back, her leg brushing the coffee table, but she didn't look down.  A civilian would have looked down no matter how scared they were.  I guarantee it. 

"Nothing." I said, slyly.  

In the instant it took for her eyes to look into mine and back down, the darts disappeared again.  I watched her dark eyes narrow suspiciously, and my mouth set into a kind of morbidly satisfied smile.  Take that, wench.  Then something broke on her face, like a mask fell off.  She looked like she was about to cry.  She fled, and I stared after her, suddenly confused.

Who _is _she, anyway? 

I told Ken about that incident, too.  One can never be too careful, so they say.  The afternoon continued, and Ayame actually started returning some of Yohji's flirtations.  She did it with an aggressive flair, like time was running out and she needed to get some...thing.  Yohji, of course, upped the ante, and by the time the sun passed the torch to the moon he followed her upstairs.  Ken and I exchanged knowing looks, and we let them have at it, opting to watch the bad subtitled western on the decrepit television, and turning it up so the English drowned out any noises that might make their way downstairs.  It worked, except for the scream.

It wasn't a sex-scream, either.  I've never heard one of those outside of the movies, but I've heard enough screams of pain to recognize that that's the noise I heard.  Ken and I almost tripped over each other in the rush to get to the stairs, and when we finally made it to Ayame's room, Aya was standing in the doorway. 

"Aya, what happened?  What…?"

He was only there for a moment, however, before he took action, unsheathing his katana with a zing and flashing it though the darkness.  I followed his form with my eyes and watched as a huge green tentacle whipped from beneath the window and sent Aya crashing into the wall inches from my head. 

What might have once been Ayame knelt on Yohji's bed, panting as scales and tentacles ripped their way from her skin.  One of said extra limbs wound its way around Yohji's neck.  Ken pushed past me, but realized he didn't have his bugnuks.  He paused, breathing hard, and grabbed Aya's katana from the floor.  Fujimiya was too busy being unconscious to need it, anyway.  In an instant I had my darts poised.  Unlike Ken, I never went without my weapons.  I had them at school, at the movies, at the flowershop—especially at the flowershop—and in the mountains.  And look, you never know when you might have to kill some freaky mutant creation. 

She didn't look like she was having a good time, despite the fact that she was strangling Yohji.  Her face was still fairly human despite the greenish tinge, and she looked like she was in a lot of pain.  I flung three darts at once, hoping to put her out of her misery.  They bounced uselessly off her shiny, dragon-like scales.  Ken went in, swinging the katana like a bad samurai movie.  In all the years we've been together we've never had to use each others' weapons.  I couldn't think of anything to do.  I had my darts but not my crossbow.  People tended to notice that, so it was impossible to carry it and pretend to be a normal happy teenage boy.  So I did what I could.  I grabbed Yohji's hand mirror off the bureau and threw it at her.  It shattered, streaming silver shards from her head.

"Oi! Wench!"  I screamed.  She turned, hissing through her tears, giving Ken the opening he needed to hack at the tentacle that squeezed the life out of Yohji's now-limp body.  Instead she focused on me, sending some octopus limbs shooting in my direction.  I ducked under one, rolling sideways into Aya and readying one dart in each hand.  She was fast—her other tentacle wrapped around my ankle, lifting my up into the air in a way disturbingly reminiscent of Masafumi.  I pulled myself up, jamming both darts into her tentacle as far as they would go.  She screamed but didn't drop me, opting to flick her tentacle and me into the wall.  My back hit it briefly before she flung me the other direction.  My head grazed the wall and she let go, slamming me into Aya's unresponsive form.  She had other things to take care of. 

Ken had managed to release Yohji, and the blood from the wound in her tentacle streamed satisfyingly across the bed.  But Yohji wasn't moving.  Ken, being the sap that he is, dropped the sword and started checking his pulse and breathing before settling into desperate rescue breaths. 

Well, shit. 

"Ken!" I screamed, "Behind you!"  He was quicker than I gave him credit for.  In an instant the sword was in his hands and he leapt into her attack, plunging the blade between her human-like ribs.  She stopped in mid-leap, blood erupting from her mouth and splattering across Ken's hair.  I finished unwrapping myself from Aya's tangled limbs as Ken twisted the sword viciously in her chest, pushing her gasping body backward across the bed and pulling the katana out as she fell. 

He didn't even check to see if she was dead.  Rule number two of dealing with horrific creatures is you always make sure it's dead.  If you don't, it's bound to come back.  Rule number one is never split up from your group.  You might find what you're looking for faster, but it'll kick your helpless solo ass. 

So, I checked for him.  He dropped the sword and went back to Yohji, who started wheezing and rolling around on the floor.  I took it and went carefully to where Ayame fell behind the bed.  I half expected her to not be there, and I checked the ceiling in case she was spider-like in her mutated abilities.  She wasn't; she was right where she was supposed to be, bleeding like she was supposed to be. 

"Omi dear," She whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, sure." I said, my voice catching. 

"He said…" she coughed, blood flicking into the air, "he said that if I didn't kill you by tomorrow night, I'd… I'd turn into this…."

"Who?"

She shook her head, eyes closed, so I tried again.

"Who sent you?"

She died.  I could feel it.  I checked her pulse anyway, and it was gone.  So I went back to Aya.  Conveniently, he was just waking up. 

"What the…?"

I handed him his sword.  He eyed the blood dripping from it with blurry vision, so I wiped it on the bed sheets and offered it again.  They were ruined, anyway.  Ken was helping a gasping Yohji to his feet, and I could already see the bruises forming on his neck. 

"That's one hell of a hicky, Yohji."  I said.  Ken glared at me.  I shut up. 


	5. Incident Number Five

Warnings:  if you haven't read 'em by now there's something wrong. 

Disclaimers:  same. 

Snow

Incident Number Five:  Among Dead Plants and Short Skirts

We all sat in the living room, trying to pretend there wasn't a room full of blood and a dead mutated monster right above our heads.  I had to keep myself from checking the ceiling every once in awhile to make sure blood hadn't soaked its way through the upstairs floorboards to attack us all unaware.  Aya was the first to break the silence.  He had bandages wrapped around his head, and while they probably weren't necessary they made him look slightly more human, like he was holding a sign that said, 'Yes, I _am _mortal'. 

"We need to tell Manx about this."  He was looking at me.  Of course that's my job.  Not only does Omi slay monsters, but he also deals with scarily-stern ladies who take bad news like a karate-chop to the gullet.  I sighed and reached into my pocket for my cell phone.  It wasn't there.  Surprised, I checked every single one of my pockets and rose to check the couch cushions as well.  Ken, who'd been sitting next to me, had his phone held out in my direction.  He wasn't offering to call himself, the coward. 

"Thanks" I said distractedly.  I flipped it open and dialed.

"Siberian." Manx's voice said in lieu of a greeting.  Hooray for Caller ID.

"Uh, Bombay here." 

"Bombay." It was one of those magical statements and questions all at once.  Like, 'Oh, you're Bombay.  Why are you calling and why is it on Siberian's phone?' all in one word.  I decided to ignore it.

"We had a situation here," I began, "No one is too badly hurt.  Balinese is a bit out of it but he'll recover."  I could almost hear Manx's eyebrow rising from the other side of the wireless connection.  I told her what happened, from when we picked Ayame up off the street to what she told me in her dying breath.  Manx sighed.

"I'll send a cleanup team.  They'll be up as soon as they can.  Does anyone need medical attention?" 

"Abyssinian might have a concussion," He glared at me, but I ignored him, "And Balinese has some serious bruising, but that's about it."  I glanced at Ken to see if I'd missed anything, but he wasn't paying attention. 

"Check Abyssinian's pupils, make sure they're the same size, and don't let him go to sleep.  I want you four back here as soon as possible." 

I scowled into the phone.  Some fun that would be, both keeping Aya awake and getting us all home through the snow. 

"Bombay?"

"Got it.  We're on our way."  She hung up, and I handed the phone back to Ken. 

"We need to go back now."  I frowned, "and I can't find my cell phone." 

We all packed, except for Yohji who was chocked full of drugs and unconscious on the sofa.  Ken packed for him.  No one found my phone, and so after another fruitless search Ken and I stood anxiously outside of what was once Ayame's room. 

"Are you sure it's in there?"  Ken said quietly.

"No, but there's a chance.  I looked everywhere else." 

He sighed, "Let's do it."

I opened the door.  Her body was mostly hidden by the bed and the gray dimness of the room, but nothing could hide the blood drying in streams across the sheets and carpet.  I stepped inside, instinctively holding my breath against the smell of blood and death and unidentifiable mutagens.  I was focused, checking the room in a meticulous way while Ken circled in the opposite direction.  I found it first, hiding behind the bureau where it had apparently fallen off in the scuffle.  Visibly relieved, Ken left the room before me and I closed the door quickly. 

"Why did she have my cell phone?"

"I don't even care.  That was gross."  Ken said, and with a flick of his slightly sweaty bangs he was on his way downstairs. 

I didn't really see why it was any worse than the other shit we put up with every day.  Maybe because she had a crush on him, turned out to be inhuman, and then was sprawled in the room behind him while missing half her intestines and most of her blood.  I guess that's enough to creep a person out.  I guess.  It didn't really bother me, though. 

Aya sat on the couch, looking like his usual self, meaning like he was going to get up any minute, grab his katana and skewer somebody.  Luckily his eyes were normal-looking, and he seemed to be okay.  I turned my attention from him back to my cell phone as Ken came back inside from loading the car.  Realizing he probably needed help, I stored the phone in my pocket and grabbed some of the luggage by the door.  We didn't have very much, really, since we didn't care enough at this point to bring any of the food back.  It could all rot in the fridge; that was fine with me.  Ken went to fetch Yohji and I was left 'helping' Aya.  Meaning I walked over to him, asked if he needed help, got a grunt, and followed him to the car.  I sat in back with Yohji, who stared silently out the window the entire time.  Ken drove, on his insistence and much to Aya's irritation.  Yohji was out of it on whatever Ken had given him.  I hoped he got over Ayame soon, because while Yohji wasn't my favorite person in the world, I liked his raucous, amorous self better.  When it wasn't directed at Ken, that is. 

Anyway, my cell phone.  It was gone for awhile, and then found behind the dresser where Ayame was staying.  The wench must have stolen it.  Who did she call?  Her boss? A backup supply of transforming pretty-girls?  Pizza Palace?  The number on the outgoing caller ID told me less than Aya on a chatty day: next to nothing.  Only that the number belonged to neither the four of us nor Manx.  I'd have to report it to Manx so Kritiker could figure it out.  I didn't really want to do the research myself.  Besides, Manx needed something to do besides follow whoever replaced Persia around in that disturbingly short skirt of hers.  I shuddered in the backseat, surprised I wasn't scarred for life at the mere imagery of Manx's wardrobe.  Maybe the scar-factor came from the fact that Yohji took full advantage of it.  Eek.  I covered my ears and closed my eyes, willing all the unwelcome images out of my head.

"Are you okay, Omi?"  Ken said.  He sounded distant through my self-made unhearing aid.

"Yes."  I straightened myself, slightly embarrassed.  All my homework was done, with the exception of that Meiji paper, so I had no way to keep myself entertained. 

And it turned out, Ken was just as bad a driver as Yohji.  Except luckily, Ken knew what the brights were for. 

A few hours later we were home.  Hooray for the Koneko.  I called Manx on the shop phone, not wanting to lose the number on mine.  She said she'd come over to collect the phone and to sit tight and be careful in case the person tried to attack us at the shop. 

It was madness, an assassin after assassins.  By sheer numbers, they were bound to lose.  And that was not even taking into account my amazing and boundless intuition. 

So it was off to a game of 'pretend there's not an unknown, mutated-minion-sending badguy after you and play flowerboy'.  I found it was a game I excelled at, despite the fact I hadn't slept all night.  Ken was with me as we pulled open the grate and checked the shop and displays for signs of wilting flowers, throwing them away and re-arranging the remaining ones to make it look like there were more.  It's not like we had this flower shop open to sell flowers, and it's not like our customers were here to buy them.  We were here to kill people and they were here to ogle us.  The flowers could have been orange-spotted poison ivy and I don't think anyone would really care.  Unless orange-spotted poison ivy says 'assassins dwell here' more than flowers do.  Probably. 

"Oh, Omi!" My arm suddenly gained about a hundred pounds and the pot in my hand tipped dangerously. 

"No way, Miyu, Omi is _mine_!"  My other arm dropped as someone latched onto it.  Well, at least they were even and I wasn't as likely to fling dirt around anymore.  Then, of course, an extra hundred pounds attacked my right arm again, and I had to half-toss the pot onto a nearby table to keep from breaking something. 

"Omi, Omi, I need some flowers."

"Oooh, Omi… I'll buy you flowers, ne?" 

Because we all know florists are seduced when girls buy them their own flowers.  Right.   I needed Aya here to scowl and threaten them into leaving me alone, but he was off checking the rest of the shop for booby traps, just in case.  Yohji was still out of it and sleeping, probably, but even if he was here he wouldn't do much good. 

"Uh, one at a time, please!" I said cheerfully, glancing over at Ken.  He was being steadily backed into a corner by two sashaying girls in skirts so short they threatened to beat Manx's record.  I tried to scrape painted fingers off my arm in an attempt to rescue him, but more girls slipped through the ranks gathered five deep outside the shop and clung to me like hairspray-encrusted barnacles.

"Where are Yohji and Aya?" Someone pouted.

"Busy." I said, my voice strained as I tried to loosen the death-grip of love on my elbow.  I managed to get one hand off only to feel another cling in its place.  I sighed, turning to check on Ken.  He'd managed to duck behind the register, the only reasonably safe place in the shop.  Even the most insane of fangirls tended to know that precious five square feet was for employees only.  The hours barely passed and by the time lunch came around the place thinned enough to breathe.  One last girl lingered by a display of violets for a moment before giving us a final smile and departing. 

I flopped into a chair with an exhausted sigh.  Ken moved past me, muttering that he was going to check on Yohji.  My blurry, sleepless brain must have melted, because I thought I wouldn't have minded if he ruffled my hair as he walked by.  He didn't, of course, and once he disappeared downstairs I smacked myself in the forehead.

That was how Manx encountered me, sprawled in a chair, head dangling backwards and covered in one dirt-strewn hand. 

"Omi."  She said, and I sat up so fast I nearly fell off my chair.  She had a slight smile on her face and a manila folder in one hand. 

"Can you handle the shop for a bit, Mrs. Momoe?"  I asked, jumping to my feet.  The old lady just nodded and chuckled at the TV, cradling her cat.  I skipped down the stairs three at a time, running a hand along the railing to keep my balance. I shouldn't have bothered, because I lost it the moment I ran smack into Ken.  Before I realized what I'd done I was propped awkwardly on my hands on the floor, my face mere inches from Ken's below me.  I squeaked and launched myself backwards and into Manx's legs. 

"Are you two quite finished?"  She said, looking amusedly down at me. 

"Geez, Omi, are you okay?"  Ken got up, rubbing his elbows where he landed on them.  I was still leaning against Manx's shins when she moved away, but Ken grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.

"Why isn't Yohji hanging on me?" I heard her say, "Not that this isn't an improvement, but…"

"Right here, baby" an arm appeared over the back of the sofa.  Manx sighed, but I caught the slight smile on her face.  I saw her expression because I made it a point to look anywhere but at Ken.  I could feel him staring at me, and I thought I'd have burn marks on my head later. 

"Boys of Weiss, you have a mission."  The creepy replicated voice cut over from the TV.  What the hell were they thinking, making a fake Persia?  As if we wouldn't be able to listen to anyone else.  Isn't it so much harder and expensive to make a pixilated Persia seem realistic than to freaking tape someone else?  What kind of sense does this make?  Not only that, but it's kind of sick, with Persia being dead and all.  Like we need to be reminded every damn day.  "...these dark beasts their tomorrows!"

"What!? There was no information!"  I cried indignantly.  I wasn't about to admit I hadn't been paying attention.  Luckily I'd only zoned out for a few seconds, certainly not enough time for there to have been anything useful. 

"We don't even know who to kill!" Ken cut in.

Manx sighed and waved her folder around, "Calm down, I've got some more info for you guys.  Are you all in or what?"  She checked her watch, and without looking at us continued, "Good.  The number on Omi's phone led to the address of a run down chemical factory that has long been out of business.  There are, however, at least five phone lines running into the place, as well as power, running water and high speed internet.  These are certainly not the signs of an abandoned factory.  Kritiker was unable to get any other information on the inside of the place, such as whether or not the inside is decorated as well as the dilapidated outside.  The company is called Saya, and was never very well off economically or well known.  The address and photos of the building are in here, as well as a history of the company.  The head of the business used to be one Takahiro Yoshii, but we couldn't find much on him, either.  He seems to be a clean, retired old man, supposedly living in Sweden.  You need to find out if he is behind this attack and how he's done it, and then kill him.  If he isn't responsible, you need to find out who is."  She handed me the folder and started back upstairs, "We'll let you know if Kritiker finds anything more."  With a wave she was gone.  Aya followed her. 

"Aww, Manx is gone, isn't she?"  Yohji sighed from his sprawled position on the couch.  Ken rolled his eyes and turned to me.

"Well, good luck Omi.  This is your area of expertise." 

I sighed, "Figures."  I still had that paper to finish, too.  Would it be too much to ask for someone to help me just once?  Maybe? 

Please? 


	6. Incident Number Six

Incident Number Six:  Pure, Unadulterated Chaos

"It turns out Saya is a gang hot-spot.  It's listed in the police database as a place to keep an eye on.  They've busted several people near it for gang shootings, et cetera."  I took a moment to pass a terribly slow van on my motorcycle before continuing my on-the-road briefing, "I managed to acquire a sketchy map of the inside from the police.  It'll have to do.  It turns out Takahiro had two children, a son and a daughter.  He apparently disowned his son and left the company to his daughter, Saya, whom the company is named after.  His son, Asato, was taken in for questioning for the too-accidental death of his sister, but was released for lack of evidence.  Saya, the former company, is listed as his current place of residence." 

I stopped talking to squeeze the brakes at a red light.  I almost hadn't noticed it.  Of course, I was running on a good three hours of sleep in the past two days.  I got a not-so-lovely chat from Mrs. Sakamoto for falling asleep in calculus and day's detention that I'd be serving tomorrow.  Maybe I could sleep through that, too.  At least I finished my history paper. 

"The mission is to kill Takahiro Asato and to destroy the building completely.  Whatever he's been doing in there is most assuredly not a good thing if it's produced a creature like Ishida.  He needs to be taken down.  There's an alarm system on the building that should be simple to take out from the outside, and I doubt he has any guards other than a few random gang members loitering about.  His relationship with the gangs is unknown, so be careful." 

I ran though the list in my head.  Yep, that was just about everything. 

"Meet you guys there in ten minutes.  Bombay out." 

I stormed down the hallway, sneakers flapping on the cement floors. 

That place was absolutely insane. 

The basement was a meth lab, apparently run to support the clone research found on the lower few floors.  It was sprinkled with addicted teenagers wielding all sorts of creative weaponry, from two by fours to cans of mace to AK-47's.  Where they got _those_ I didn't really want to know.  So far, however, they'd been easy to take out since they weren't really in an appropriate state of mind to be fighting.  A can of mace won't do you any good if you've got a crossbow dart protruding from your skull, after all, and an AK-47's only deadly if you're coherent enough to load it. 

To recap, we'd been lucky they were all higher than a Boeing 747 crash-landing on Everest, or we would have actually had to work. 

I skidded through the doorway to what I'd assumed was Asato's bedroom, crouched low, darts poised, to find Aya already running him through with his katana. 

"Confirm he's dead."  I said quickly, making sure to keep my distance from the bed where we'd caught Asato by surprise.  I watched as Aya twisted his sword in the man's gut and wrenched it out again. 

"I got all the data, Bombay."  Ken said.

"I'm setting the last explosive now." Yohji reported.

"Excellent.  Meet at the rendezvous point in five.  Don't forget the detonation device, Balinese."

"Yeah, yeah, give me some credit.  Geez." 

I grinned, and then heard a gunshot.  Before I even realized what had happened I'd whirled around and flung a dart.  It stuck straight into the windpipe of a petite woman with a derringer in one hand.  She must have just emerged from the bathroom.  How stupid of me to not check for other doors.  She dropped faster than a spider from a Koneko girl's panicked grip.  I fell nearly as fast.  Suddenly my legs wouldn't hold me anymore, and I was kneeling on the ground. 

Then it started to hurt, and it hurt like a bitch.  I had a hole in my chest.  There was so much blood.

I fell over. 

I tried to talk, to say I'd been shot, but it didn't work.  Aya was beside me in a second, turning me over and scooping me into his arms.

"The target and his wife are dead.  Omi's been shot."  He spoke calmly into his headset. 

"What?!"  I heard Ken gasp through my own headset. 

"Meet at the rendezvous point, now.  Balinese, start the car." 

He started to run.  The world was hazy and slippery, like I couldn't quite catch a hold of it with my vision.  One arm flopped and my head lulled against Aya's chest.  I was bleeding all over his trench coat, I thought dully that I should apologize. 

He made it to the car incredibly fast, it felt like, and I found myself in the back seat looking up at Ken. 

"I need a plastic baggie and some tape."  He demanded after giving me a once-over.

"What the fuck for?"  Yohji asked, his voice slightly raised from its normal tone. 

"There aren't any.  Unless you want this one, but it has goldfish it in."  Aya said from the passenger seat, sounding like he always did.

"Dump them out and give it to me.  Quickly."  He peeled my shirt off of me, and I gasped as the violent movement jarred me in all the wrong places, "I'm sorry, Omi.  Hang in there."

I heard the sound of ripping tape and rustling plastic, and then a soft curse from Ken. 

"There's too much blood, the tape won't stick."

"What are you fucking taping him for?!"  Yohji snarled.

"He's got a sucking chest wound."  Ken returned just as acidly, ripping off his shirt.  Ken really did pay attention in first aid.  I was proud of him. 

My vision dimmed another notch.  The inside of the car was now very dark and blurry.  I couldn't tell Ken from the ceiling light.  As he wiped at my chest with his shirt I tried to talk to him.

"Ken, I…" my voice was all gargled and soft.  I ended up coughing blood onto him.  Oops. 

"Shh… Don't talk."

Why do people always say that?  Wasn't it obvious that I was dying and had something important to say?  What if I never got to say it?  It was getting harder to breathe and my breaths were shallow and full of bubbles.  I was suddenly terrified.  Is this what dying is really like?  What if I never got a chance to tell him? 

"No, Ken…" More hacking, more spattering blood, "I'm… I'm sorry."  I wasn't entirely sure what I was apologizing for.  Everything, probably.  The fact that I was dying, and I couldn't even tell him what I felt for him. 

"Stop, Omi.  It's okay.  Everything's okay, you're going to be fine.  Don't worry."  He pulled me up into him and wrapped his shirt around my back to stop the bleeding there.  I knew it wasn't going to work, and that I was going to die. 

"It doesn't hurt anymore."  I whispered. 

"Omi?"  I could barely feel his fingers in my hair, "Shit, he's going into shock.  Drive faster, Yohji!" 

Then I was gone. 

I woke up to that terribly trite beeping, some oxygen-enforcing plastic over my mouth and nose, and a bag of blood and other things hovering above me.  I took a deep breath and felt kind of giddy.  Oxygen is a euphoric, you know.  According to _Fight Club_ that's why they give it to you when airplanes are crashing.  So you don't panic.  I was far from panicking.  In fact, I wasn't really sure what was going on. 

But at least I wasn't dead.  They don't have respirators and heart monitors in the afterlife.  That would kind of defeat the purpose, I think.  I rolled my head over to take a look around.  Ken was awkwardly asleep in a chair near my bed; his head angled in such a way I knew his neck would hurt when he woke up.  He looked terribly cute when he was asleep.  I wondered how long he'd been here, and if he ever left.  The thought made me feel fuzzy.  I watched him sleep for awhile, collecting my scattered memories from the recesses of my oxygen-blurred brain. 

Well, the mission was a success.  Everyone's dead who should be. 

I felt really weird.  I bet I was on more than oxygen.  Moving my hand wasn't supposed to be that entertainingly difficult. 

I finally managed to get the mask off my face when Ken woke up.

"Omi?" He slurred, "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," I croaked.  My mouth tasted terrible and my throat felt like someone had shoved a pitchfork down it.  I couldn't feel the bullet hole at all.  I knew I'd feel it later, though, so I didn't worry about it.

He got up, rubbed his eyes and came over to me, perching delicately on the edge of my bed. 

"How do you feel?"

"Okay." I said, "How are you?"

He grinned. "Fine now." 

My brain couldn't wrap around what he meant by that, so I shoved it aside.

"We were really worried about you.  I'm glad you're okay." 

He leaned over and pushed some of my bangs away from my face.  I could see a few flecks of dried blood on his hairline, probably from where I'd hacked on him.  He was very, very close to me.  A jolt ricocheted up my spine when I realized he was about to kiss me.

The door suddenly and noisily opened and Yohji and Aya came in bearing flowers.  Ken blushed and pulled away from the bed so quickly my brain hurt watching him, and his eyes skirted the room embarrassedly.  Yohji came over, ruffled my hair, and set the azaleas on the bedside table. 

I fucking hate flowers.  I think I'd rather have poison ivy. 

Yohji is _such_ a bastard. 

--El Fin--

trucizna says:

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and read my story, and for hanging with me through the long gaps between chapters.  I appreciate it endlessly, and it makes me feel all gushy inside.  In a good way, of course. 

Thanks to Jen-chan and Kitty-Kat Allie for reviewing multiple times. 

Thanks for reading, folks!   I hope it didn't disappoint!


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